


I Know A Place We Can Run

by whisperingwind



Series: epilepsy 'verse [5]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Airports, Angst, Canon Compliant, Epilepsy, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Neurological Disorders, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 12:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11184909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperingwind/pseuds/whisperingwind
Summary: Niall leans in, brushing Harry’s hair from his face as he's seen Louis do time after time. The younger boy shifts away from his touch, choking on a cry. “I’m gonna try to get Louis for you. I’m sorry I can’t be more help, lover.”Or, under strange circumstances Louis isn't with Harry when he experiences a seizure, but still does everything in his power to help.Title from "I Know A Place" by MUNA





	I Know A Place We Can Run

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the anons on tumblr and archive user Becaaroo for their prompts and constant support. xx

Louis crosses his arms over his chest as he watches Harry. “Alright, what’s the matter?” 

“What do you mean?” The younger boy asks, refusing to glance at him. His back is to him as he kneels in front of his suitcase, refolding all of his clothing to make them fit. The only problem is he’s leaving with more pieces of clothing than he came to Los Angeles with. 

“You’re awfully quiet.” Louis says, rounding Harry’s suitcase to kneel on the other side of it. “Here, I saw this thing on Twitter. If you roll your shirts up like towels, you can make everything fit. Worry about ironing them later.” He grabs one of Harry’s Rolling Stones’ shirts to demonstrate his method. 

“Nice.” Harry whispers, disregarding his previous question. He follows Louis’ instructions and begins to follow suit with each shirt in need of fitting into the suitcase. 

Louis stops for a moment, squeezing the silk fabric of Harry’s Marc Jacobs blouse. The beige one with the motorcycle pattern. It’s his favorite blouse Harry wears. He bundles it in his hands, bringing it to his nose, and smells the underlying musk left from Harry wearing it so many times. Harry hasn’t paid him any attention, rather he continues to fold his expensive clothing with disgruntled features. 

“H.” Louis tries, reaching across the suitcase to touch Harry’s bicep. “What’s going on? You know you can tell me.”

Harry shakes his head. “Think I caught another bug. My stomach’s a tad wonky. I’ve got a headache.” 

“We have time before we have to meet the lads at the airport. Why don’t you rest up and I’ll finish packing for you?” 

“I’ve got it. Might take some aspirin in a bit.” he mumbles, keeping his eyes downcast as he folds his Harley Davidson tee. 

Louis sucks his bottom lip between his teeth watching Harry’s exhausted determination to finish packing his suitcase. He tries to not pay any attention to how severely Harry’s hands are shaking, rather keeps his focus on Harry’s face, though partially covered by his mop of hair. “How bad is your head?” 

“Nothing to worry about, really.” 

“Well if it starts to get worse, you’ll tell me right?” Louis asks, placing his hand over Harry’s. “Because I won’t hesitate to get us a later flight or something.” 

Harry peers at Louis, locking eyes with his for a brief second. “I’m fine, Louis, really. I don’t need a babysitter, yeah?” 

“I know you don’t, love.” Louis sighs. His eyes catch on the two prescription pill bottles. “Why don’t you go take your Epanutin and Topamax right now?” 

The only thing frequent visits to the hospital have taught Louis is the pronunciation of medications. He could be a doctor with the amount of pills he’s seen issued to Harry in the last few years. 

“Would it make you feel better?” Harry asks, setting another shirt in the suitcase.

“Much.” The older boy says, digging out the bottles from the inner mesh pocket. He hands the bottles to Harry. “My water bottle is on the nightstand, you can take them with that if you want.”

Harry does as Louis asks, not wanting to stir controversy. He pops the pills into the back of his throat then drowns them with a gulp of water. He returns to finish packing his bags without another word. 

“Thank you.” Louis says, sticking the orange bottles back in the pocket of Harry’s suitcase.

 

 

 

 

They’re at the front doors of the hotel when Harry very suddenly drops his suitcase and scurries past Louis and hotel staff. “Harry?” Louis asks, dumbfounded, turning around to catch a glimpse of his fiance. He’s nowhere to be seen. “Did you see where my fiance went?” he asks one of the receptionists. 

"He went that way." She points towards the bathrooms down the hallway.

“Shit.” Louis mutters, then lets go of his bag as well as he walks the path of the hall. 

He hesitantly steps into the restroom and isn’t two feet into the bathroom before observing Harry’s knees underneath the stall followed by his loud retching noises. He sighs, walking to said stall to see if it’s unlocked. It’s not, but it doesn’t keep him from rapping his knuckles against the metal door. “Harry, you alright?”

Harry spits into the toilet bowl, gripping the edges of the porcelain seat with white-knuckles. “Fine.” 

“Harry…” Louis leans against the door. "You don't sound fine. Is there anything you need me to grab for you?" 

“I told you it’s just a stomach bug. I’m feeling better already.” Harry answers, followed by a flush of the toilet. He rises to his feet, unlocking the stall, coercing Louis to step aside.

“If you’re not well enough to get on the plane, that’s okay. I know how much you hate throwing up. We can take a later flight.” Louis reminds, following Harry as he approaches the sinks. He makes eye contact with him through the mirror.

“Every person alive hates throwing up. I’m fine, and I mean it, Louis.” Harry runs his hand through his hair, standing at the sink. He washes his hands for quite a while in the midst of thinking about the dull ache in his head and what it could very possibly mean. 

“You know I-”

“Worry.” he interrupts, turning the faucet off. He tears a piece of paper towel to dry his hands. “Yes, I know you worry, and I love you very much for it, but you don’t need to worry about me right now, okay?” 

Louis sighs, but doesn’t say another word regarding the subject, rather he stands with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, and waits for Harry to finish cleaning himself up. "Ready to go?" 

 

 

 

 

Louis, Zayn, and Liam huddle together as they walk through the terminals of the airport while Harry and Niall are at an even pace with each other, discussing a new album James Bay put out recently.  Everything is carried out as usual, though their guards do seem a bit more apprehensive than usual, speaking into their ear pieces with morbidly dry tones. In the midst of their chatting, they push for Louis, Zayn, and Liam to make a right turn down a strange hallway while Harry and Niall are lead back in the other direction.

"Why aren't we boarding the flight?" Harry asks, pushing his hair off his forehead with his aviators. 

One of their guards, Norman, answers him with a friendly slap on the back. "We'll explain momentarily, alright? Nothing to worry about." 

Harry exchanges a concerned gaze with Niall. "Where are the others?" Niall questions, confused.

"We'll explain in a few moments." he repeats, his voice oddly rigid. 

Meanwhile, it takes Louis a moment to realize they’re no longer on track to walk to the flight they’re boarding, instead they’re being compelled to march down a grimy hallway, He also quickly notices there's several more security guards encasing them, more than just their own team of sentinels.

“Why are we - “ Louis begins to ask, only to be interrupted by their shoving him forward. Liam and Zayn are on either side of him, also surrounded by more security than Louis has yet to ever see, and they've played some of the largest venues. Aside from their own security, the LAX airport security has moved to gather around them too. “What the  _ fuck  _ are we doing?” Louis snaps, attempting to halt, though a hand on the small of his back forcibly guides him forward, causing him to stumble over his toes. 

No one answers him. He first cranes his neck to the left to glance at Zayn, who appears relatively bored and not at all bothered by the situation happening around them, then right to peer at Liam, who seems to be just as confused as he is. He also tries to ask questions, but is denied, forced to keep walking, but with more gentle motive, a hand braced on his shoulder. 

“Wait a second.” Louis says upon realizing that there’s no sight of Harry or Niall. He raises his voice with repetition of the thought, “Wait just a fucking second. Where’s Harry?” He grows frantic upon comprehending Harry isn’t bundled in the mass of security and tour staff. “Why the fuck won’t anyone answer me? Where’s Harry?” He tries turning around to look for him, but a rough hand clutches his shoulder, giving him a stern shake.

“You need to shut your mouth for one fucking second. We’re trying to do a job here.” The guard barks. 

“And what bloody job is that?” Louis snaps, shoving the burly man’s hand off his shoulder. “I want to know where my fiance is.” 

Again, no one says a word. That is, until they’ve entered a chilly, isolated room, and are made to sit against the wall. Louis sits in between Zayn and Liam, eyes scanning the room for a mere glimpse of Harry. There’s no sign of his curly-haired love, but he does see plenty of security guards speaking into walkie-talkies and cell phones in a mad panic. 

Hell, even their hair and makeup stylist, Lou, and her daughter, Lux, are gathered to one side of the room. Lux is bundled in her arms, face buried against her mum’s neck as her body shakes with tired cries.  

“Alright, enough of this, what’s going on?” Liam asks, staring at the head of their security, Sam. 

Sam clears his throat. “There was a threat. We just need to keep you all in one place while it’s investigated. It’s far too hectic for the lot of you to be wandering.” 

Zayn sighs deeply beside Louis, knees drawn to his chest and arms folded on top of them. He rests his forehead against his forearm. Louis can understand his frustration. 

“Where’s Harry?” Louis asks, again, frustration evident in his tone. 

“We thought it would be best to split the lot of you up. Niall and Harry are safe. They’re on the other side of the airport in a similar room.” Sam explains, making eye contact with Louis. “He’s okay, Louis, I promise you that.” 

Louis scoffs. “Not that I’m not  _ thrilled  _ to be sat in here with Liam and Zayn,  but why wouldn’t you pair me up with him?” 

“It was a spur of the moment sort of thing. The two of them were closer together, so we split you down the middle. Don’t worry, the investigation won’t take anymore than an hour, and we can get all of you home.” 

Louis shuts his eyes with a hefty sigh, rubbing a hand over his face as he thinks over the situation. 

 

 

 

 

“This doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. If they got wind of a threat, why aren’t we boarding the plane? Why would we stay in the same place with an ongoing threat?” Niall rambles, anxiously, as he paces in front of Harry. He’s never been good in confined places, so having a dozen security guards, five members of tour staff, Harry, and himself shoved into a closet-like room isn’t helping his mental well-being. 

“Niall, take a breather. We’ll be on a plane home in a little while.” Harry reassures, eyes following his best friend as he sharply turns on his heel to pace the opposite direction. “Man, you’re making me nervous. Would you please stop moving around?"

“How are you so calm about this? Nobody is saying anything!” he exclaims, frustratedly throwing his hands in the air.  “I don’t even know what’s going on.” 

Harry can’t help but chuckle, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.  “This isn’t the first time someone has made a senseless threat. It’ll be okay, man, I promise. You’ll be home in like a…” he thinks about the flight duration for a moment, then snaps his fingers when it comes to him. “half a day. There you go, half a day and you’ll be sat on your couch watching golf.” 

“I’m gonna watch the Chelsea game.” Niall corrects. 

“There you go. Half a day and you’ll be watching the Chelsea game. Now, will you please stop pacing?” 

Niall moves to stand beside Harry. “What do you think the lads are doing?” 

“I reckon Louis is giving them a hell of a time.” Harry laughs, rubbing the underside of his jaw, though when he glances at Niall to gauge his response, he becomes confused upon witnessing the blond's concerned expression. “What’s the matter?” 

“Nothing, just...you sound a bit funny.” Niall meets his eyes, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you alright?” 

Harry doesn’t quite understand. He can hear himself loud and clear and he feels as though he sounds normal. “Yeah I’m -” A gasp tears through him as a sharp pain prods at his head. It feels as though someone has taken all the nerve endings in his head and twisted them. He jams his fingertips from each hand into his temples, forcing them white with pressure.

“Harry? Niall asks, grabbing his shoulders. "Harry what's wrong?"

“Niall, I don't…” A groan leaves him. “Don't feel well.” he mumbles, though Niall has a hard time comprehending what he's saying. Just as Niall begins to ask him a new question, Harry’s legs become weak and buckle underneath his weight. 

“Shit.” Niall barely gets a tight enough grip on him, pushing him against the wall to keep him upright. “Do I need to get you on the floor? Do you need to lay down?” 

Harry doesn't answer him, eyes clenched shut as the sharp pain continue to thrive through him. His breathing becomes labored as Niall holds him against the wall. 

Slowly Niall loosens his grip, leading Harry down to the floor as he crouches down. As soon as he releases him, Harry slumps to the floor, laying motionless as Niall hovers above him. “Fuck.” he whispers to himself, watching Harry with wide eyes. It takes him a moment to get his bearings, but he calls over his shoulder, “Can someone get a hold of Louis? Harry’s having a seizure.”

As soon as those words leave Niall’s mouth, some of the guards come to circle around them, a few even bending down to get a better look. 

Harry’s mouth drops agape, tongue lazily lapping inside of his mouth as his eyes wander around the room. It's literally insane to see how fast Harry went from standing and talking to not being able to hold himself upright. “I - uh, shit. I don't…” Niall mutters to himself, hands hesitant to touch Harry while he's so disoriented. He tries his hardest to remember the steps Louis took when Harry has had a seizure in the past. “Harry, I don't - um - what do I do?” 

He's never been in this situation before. One of the other boys, mostly always Louis, has been there every time Harry has experienced a fit, but now no one with any comprehension of what to do is with him. 

Harry tries to touch his shirt, his buttoned blouse, but his hand is clenched in such a way, that his fingers only brush against it. Niall doesn't have a clue regarding what Harry wants him to do. “I don’t know what you need, pet. I’m sorry.” He looks around at the guards. “Someone needs to phone Louis right now.” 

A high-pitched whine leaves Harry as he continuously attempts to touch his blouse. He tries talking, but the words come out as babbling, as an infant would do. 

Niall leans in, brushing Harry’s hair from his face as he's seen Louis do time after time. The younger boy shifts away from his touch, choking on a cry. “I’m gonna try to get Louis for you. I’m sorry I can’t be more help, lover.”

 

 

 

 

Meanwhile the phone rings and the gruff security guard from before answers. He hesitates for a moment, then says, “Really? Shit. Yeah, he’s here, let me grab him for you.” Peter says into his phone, then glances over his shoulder. “Louis, come here.”

“Why?” The blue-eyed boy questions, a hint of annoyance laced in his tone. 

Peter doesn’t seem bothered by Louis’ attitude. “Just come here.”

Louis rolls his eyes, rising to his feet, and walks to stand beside Peter. He's rather confused when the older man hands him his phone, “Hello?”

“Louis? Louis is that you?”

It isn't hard for Louis to detect Niall’s thick Irish brogue, though he sounds panicked. “Yeah...what's going on Niall?” he asks, confused.

“Harry’s having a seizure, and I...I don't know what I need to do.”

Louis feels as though his world has just caved in beneath him. Harry having a seizure without Louis is a very rare occasion and Louis isn’t comfortable with knowing Harry is without him. “He - what? Fuck. Is he alright? Did he fall?” 

“No he didn't fall.” Niall answers without hesitance. “I’ve got him laying down, but I don't - what do I do? He doesn't...he can breathe right?” 

“Yeah, Ni. He can breathe. Fuck.” Louis pulls the phone away from his mouth. “You need to let me get to them.” he snaps at their security. 

“It’s not happening, Louis. Not until we get the word of clearance.” A security guard, who he can't bother to remember, explains.

“If he doesn't receive proper first aid, there can be complications. As much as I trust Niall, he's not the person I want caring for Harry right now. Let me leave.” Louis demands, staring directly at the guard. 

“We can't let you leave, Louis. It's not happening. I'm sorry.”

Louis shakes his head. His stomach is in knots. “You're obviously not understanding what I’m saying. Are you bloody ignorant? Harry is having a fucking seizure, and I am the only one suited to give him first aid.”

Nobody says anything. But with those intense words Zayn picks his head out of his arms and Liam watches on. “What's going on?” Zayn asks.

“Harry.” Louis replies, and that's all he has to say before both Liam and Zayn stand to huddle around him. He brings the receiver back to his mouth. “Hey, Niall? Can you tell me if he’s still with it? Is he looking at you when you talk?”

“Uh, yeah. He's...he’s straining quite a bit, but he's trying.” Niall sounds absolutely terrified and Louis honestly feels sorry for him. Harry must have gotten himself worked up over the airport scare which doesn't help given his sickness earlier today. Given his seizures are usually controlled and Louis was with him when he took his meds this morning, he figures it has to do with anxiety and illness. “I'm sorry, Louis, I’m really sorry. I don't know what I'm doing.”

“Put me on speaker, Niall, okay? I'm gonna talk you through it. It's okay. Just set the phone to the side, and listen to what I tell you.” He feels sick to his stomach, God does he feel awful, and there isn't a thing he can do about it. He allows a few moments to pass before asking, “Am I on speaker?” 

“Yeah.” Niall replies. 

“Alright, good lad. Is there any -” Just as he’s begun talking, he hears a loud, significant cry come from the other end. He winces at it, eyes clenching shut. “What was that?”

Niall hesitates. “Think he hears your voice.”

While Louis feels a bit better knowing Harry is able to comprehend the sound of his voice, his heart is still in his throat. A heavy sweat has started to saturate his face. He's never felt so poorly about this. “You're okay, Harry. Niall’s going to help you, and I’ll - I'll be there as soon as I can, babes.” He can hear Harry struggling to answer him with disgruntled groans. “You've gotta relax for Niall, love. It's alright,  _ you're _ alright, baby. I'm sure you're doing such a good job.” Tears brim his eyes, pricking at the edges, all because he feels so guilty. Harry must be so scared. “Okay, Niall? You've got to clear the space around you, is there anything there?”

“We’re close to the wall, should I move him away from it?” Niall asks. 

“If you can. You don't want him to hit anything, he could hurt himself pretty badly.” Louis explains, running his hand through his hair. Not being there with Harry is making him feel ill. He can hear Niall whispering a quiet, “I’ve got you H, stay still for me. I've just gotta move you over a bit.” 

Louis swallows, keeping his focus down. “Did you move him?”

“Yeah, stubborn bugger he is, eh?” he tries to joke, but his tone only reads as real fear. “Now what?”

“Make sure, uh, he wasn't chewing on any gum or anything.”

“Open your mouth, H. There you go.” Niall whispers, then answers Louis. “No gum.”

Louis remembers he was wearing a button-up blouse. “Undo his shirt okay Niall? And if his jeans seem too tight, just undo the button for me. You don't want him constricted at all. And you see his cross and his medical alert pendant?”

“I do.”

“Just move those to the side for him, don't want him to asphyxiate.” Another brash cry leaves Harry, and Louis’ stomach drops. He gags. “Shh, easy Harry easy, you’ve gotta take it easy for Niall. It'll be alright. You're doing so good. Just a little while and you’ll be okay. Niall, can you help him onto his side? You’ve gotta keep his airway open.” 

“Okay.”

There's shuffling on the other end, so Louis waits for it to end before speaking again. “If there's anything you can pillow under his head, use it, if not just gently slip your hand under so he doesn't hit his head off the floor when he starts to seize. How's he doing?”

“He's...I think he's gonna go. He can hardly make any noise, and he...uh, he weed himself.” 

“That's alright. It's no big deal. How are you doing?”

“I'm okay. Just a bit nervous.” Niall admits. 

Louis swallows. “You're doing a great job, mate. I'm so proud of you.” 

As if to answer his appraisal, he hears Harry groan quite loudly and intensely, then Niall swears under his breath, and Louis knows the seizing has started. He can't keep the contents of his stomach down any longer either, rather he’s shoving the phone into Liam's hands and losing the shitty airport food in a rubbish bin. Zayn follows behind him, placing a hand on his back, rubbing slow circles. “It's alright, man.”

Louis wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and reaches out for his phone. “All you've gotta do is sit back, and let me know if he goes over five minutes, okay?” 

A few seconds pass, then Niall speaks again, “Yeah, um Louis? He rolled onto his back, should I move him back on his side?”

“No, don't touch him. He’ll be alright.” Louis bites down on his bottom lip, sucking it between his two teeth. All he can hear are grunts and clicking of Harry’s tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You're doing great, Harry. Stay steady for Niall, love. It's almost over, and I’ll be right there.” 

Sam comes around to them and begins to say, “As it's checked out, there was no contraband, so the -” Before he can even get the words out, Louis’ demanding him to take him to the other back room.

It’s a good two minutes away, and in that time, Niall tells Louis that Harry is starting to come to a stop. In fact, by the time Louis is shoving his way through the throng of guards and tour staff, Harry has almost ceased completely, though some spasms are still rocking through him. 

He drops to his knees beside Niall, staring at Harry as the younger boy continues to shake. He gently caresses Harry's chest as the younger lad begins to slow down. "You're alright, I'm here lovey, it's okay. You gotta stop seizing for me, okay? Few more seconds and you'll stop shaking. You're okay." he whispers. "Keep steady for me babes."

He's honest it turns out. Harry does stop seizing and becomes lax against the floor. Though, he notices a trickle of blood slipping out of his left nostril and saliva barricading his mouth, so he utilizes his sleeve to clean Harry up a bit for the time being, until he can get him in the bathroom. “You did great Niall, thank you so much.” he whispers, grabbing the blond’s hand. “Thank you.” he repeats. 

Harry’s eyes are open, but unfocused, and his tongue hangs partially out of his lips. Louis touches Harry’s clammy cheek with one hand, brushing his thumb along his cheekbone. “You're alright, love. I'll get you all cleaned up in a few minutes, okay? Maybe you’ll be able to stand for me this time, yeah?” 

It takes a few minutes of patience and consoling, then Harry is shifting against Louis’ touch, head turning in the direction of his voice. “Hey lovey, it’s good to have you back. You had a seizure, okay? Let’s give it a few more minutes, and I’ll help you sit up.” 

“The plane will be boarding in about fifteen minutes.” Sam says from behind him. When he glances over his shoulder, he sees Zayn and Liam standing nearby, ready to jump in if need be. 

Louis scoffs. “Well, you can book Harry and I a later flight then. He's not getting on a plane when he can't speak or sit up.”

“Well, it’ll put you behind schedule.” 

“Oh fucking well!” Louis raises his voice, then looks back to Harry. “You lot put us behind schedule with your stupid fucking threat.”

“If Harry isn’t well enough to get on the plane, then I’m not boarding either.” Niall adds.

“Same.” Zayn says.

Liam doesn't miss a beat. “Yeah, I won't either.” 

Harry’s eyes wander and his lips start to move, but no sound comes out. “Take your time sweets.” Louis whispers.

“Lou…” Harry finally mumbles, narrowing his eyes. “Should...fun.” 

“Your shoulder feels funny?” Louis guesses, and Harry weakly nods. “You might have dislocated it, love. I'll look at it in a second, okay? Do you think you can sit up?”

Harry shakes his head. 

“What if I help you? Do you think you can then?” He waits to see Harry’s acknowledgment, which is a nod, then he slides a hand under his back and places another hand on his chest before pushing him into a sitting position.

Harry whines, gripping his right shoulder with a white-knuckled grasp. “I'm sorry, love, I shouldn't have sat you up so fast, should I?” Louis whispers, peppering kisses along Harry’s hairline in apology. Harry can hardly keep himself upright. Louis sits with his legs in a shape of a ‘v’ so Harry can sit in between them. The younger boy slumps against the trunk of Louis’ body. “Is there anything you want, sweets?” 

Harry taps Louis’ lips with his pointer finger. He doesn't try to speak.

“You want some water?” he asks, brushing Harry’s hair from his face. Harry nods. “Okay, I’ll get you some water.” Before he even asks one of the boys, Zayn volunteers himself, disappearing to find some H2O. 

Louis presses his lips to Harry’s forehead, shutting his eyes. Zayn returns with a small dixie cup full of water, and bends down to hand it to Louis. “Thanks.” he says, holding the paper cup to Harry’s lips. Harry attempts to grab it from him, but Louis brushes his hand away. “Maybe you lads should get on the plane, I mean I’m gonna have to take him to the doctor’s if his shoulder’s dislocated. You can do the next couple interviews without us.” 

“It's not the same. We can just all go home together.” Niall points out. “An extra day in LA doesn't hurt.” 

Louis doesn't argue with him. “Harry love,” he whispers, touching the younger boy’s cheek, “do you think you can stand? I've gotta get you cleaned up.”

Harry doesn't answer him. 

“Well let's try. I can help you walk if you can get on your feet.” Louis reminds, slowly standing to see if Harry can keep himself sat up. He seems to be okay, so Louis takes the next step and offers his hand to Harry. 

Harry groans when he tries to move his right arm, so instead grabs Louis’ hand with his left. Liam can tell he’s a bit unsteady, so he gets behind him, hooking his arm around his waist as Louis pulls him to his feet. He's a bit weak, blatantly, when his knees turn inwards, but Louis switches places with Liam, hooking an arm around Harry’s waist, while he encourages the younger boy to drape his left arm around his shoulder. “Can someone hand me his carry on?” he asks, holding his free hand out. 

Once he's got everything in place, he slowly begins to walk, keeping Harry’s weak stride in mind. He doesn’t say much of anything until the two of them walk into a bathroom. It's a singular restroom. He shuts the door behind them, locking it, before leading Harry to the toilet. “Just sit down for a second, okay?” he suggests, and Harry nods, eyes following him as he sets the carry on down and digs through its contents. “How about we get you in some sweatpants?” 

Harry nods, mumbling a quiet, “Okay.” 

Louis withdraws a pair of dark grey sweatpants, and slings them over his shoulder as he stands up. “Is it easier if I help you out of your trousers?” 

Again, Harry nods, chin tucked to his chest as he tries to process a cohesive thought. 

“Okay, love. Just hold onto my shoulders, and I’ll tug them down for you, alright?”  Harry does begin to protest, but Louis doesn’t allow for him to finish. “We all need a little help from time to time.” He has Harry stand, gripping his shoulder with his good hand, and from there he unzips the front of his jeans. “Move your hips a tad for me love.” He shimmies the skinny jeans down Harry’s legs and carefully helps him step out of them. He tosses the expensive jeans in the garbage without a second thought.

The tricky part is trying to get sweatpants on. Louis bends down, holding the sweats still while Harry steps into them, foot by foot.

Louis tugs them up as he rises and kisses Harry’s forehead. “See. Look at how simple that was. Here let me button your shirt up for you.” he mentions, doing up the buttons on Harry’s blouse relatively quick. 

“Thanks.” Harry whispers, keeping his eyes on Louis. 

“Of course, now sit back down for me. I’m just gonna get some paper towel so you can wash your face.” 

Louis doesn't appear to be even remotely bothered by the situation, which is something Harry has never been able to understand. The man can be a bit irritable and outspoken, but has never been anything other than calm and collected head when it comes to aiding during seizures. He's good in the situation. 

It's not as though Harry has had a lot of bad experiences when it comes to people trying to understand him. His mum was always great when it came down to it - perhaps a bit emotional, but understandably so - and Gemma has always been sweet when it comes to postitcal symptoms. The only person to ever give him a rough time was his dad. 

Louis brings the piece of damp paper towel to Harry and kneels down in front of him. “Lift your chin for me.” Harry does as he asks, then shuts his eyes as Louis wipes around his lips and chin. 

“Lou.” Harry mumbles.

Louis stops for a second. “Yes babe?”

“Thank…” Harry sighs as he tries to produce a clear thought. 

“Don't be silly, you don't have to thank me for helping you clean up.” Louis interrupts, continuing to wipe the younger boy’s face. 

Harry shakes his head. “No...for…” Harry rubs at his head in frustration, tugging at the roots of his hair. “Not, um, mad.”

“For not being mad?” Louis asks as if it's the most ridiculous thing he’s heard Harry say. He tosses the piece of paper towel away in the meantime. “Why would I be mad?” 

Harry narrows his eyes at Louis. “Um, my dad.” 

“Your dad?” Louis asks, meeting Harry’s eyes. Though he doesn't understand, he pretends he does to appease Harry. They’ll have to discuss it later when Harry can speak in full sentences and think clearly. He's never heard much of anything concerning Harry’s dad in regards to his epilepsy, in fact he's never heard much about his dad, period. So, it's strange for Harry to bring it up right now. He brushes Harry’s hair behind his ears. “Well, that certainly isn't very nice, is it? Don't worry, I could never get mad at you. Now, how’s your shoulder?”

“Hurts.” Harry replies.

“Alright, then let's get you over to the doctor’s so they can make you feel better. We’ll get a taxi.”

 

 

 

 

“Made me a bit sick to my stomach if I’m being honest. How bad did it hurt?” Louis asks, looking over at Harry. 

“I've had worse.” he answers, looking down at his arm. He has a sling on, holding his shoulder and arm in place against his chest. “At least I can say I’ve had a joint popped back into socket. Check it off the bucket list.” 

Louis laughs, pulling his sunglasses over his eyes. He's going to use this flight back home to catch up on some must needed sleep. “Some bucket list you must have.”

“I should start making a bucket list of places to have seizures.” he jokes, dryly. “Next stop, The London Eye.” 

“Could you imagine, fuck.” Louis mutters as he slumps against the back of his seat. “Can't believe we have a bloody conference panel to attend when we land.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I can hardly wait.” 

Silence falls between them, but Louis has had a certain topic on his mind for the last thirty six hours, though he isn't sure he wants to ask about it. His curiosity overpowers his worry. “Harry, can I ask you something?”

“I reckon you just did.”

Louis forces a laugh. “Cute. No, but seriously, it's an important question.”

“Oh boy…”

“The other day you were worried about me being upset with you, then you mentioned your dad when I asked why you would think that...I was just wondering why?” He slides his sunglasses up to his head, pushing his messy brunet hair back. 

The color drains from Harry’s face. “Oh, it's nothing. Not really anyways. You know how I am after seizures. Don't know my ass from a hole in the ground.” 

“You sounded quite upset is all. You're sure there's nothing you wanna talk about?” 

Harry bites down on his bottom lip, swallowing thick. “You know my parents divorced when I was like seven, yeah?”

“You've mentioned it.”

“‘Cause of the financial instability my epilepsy brought along and what not, but they had joint custody. Uh, I don't know, he was just not as supportive as my mum, you know? I’d have a seizure at his house, and he would get so mad if I got blood or piss on his carpet or if he had work friends over and I had a seizure.” 

“That's not right.” 

Harry rubs the underside of his jaw. “He’d yell at me all the fucking time, to the point where I didn't want to be around him anymore. Guess it makes sense why I don't talk to him anymore.” 

Louis shakes his head, thinking over what Harry has told him. “It’s not like you do it on purpose.”

“People just don’t understand that it’s a disorder, y’know? Some people are just too dense, but that’s okay. There’s plenty of things I don’t understand either.” 

“But you’re not a jackass about it. God, that makes me so mad. What about now? Does he try to speak to you at all?” 

“The occasional text.” Harry sighs, glancing out the plane window. “But, other than that I don’t hear from him. It’s better this way. I always felt as though I had to be on guard when I was around him.” 

Louis reaches over, placing his hand on the inner side of Harry’s thigh. “Well, you don’t ever have to worry about me getting mad at you for having a seizure, alright? I try to understand it as best as I can and that’s that.” 

Harry looks to Louis with a soft smile and watery eyes. “I know, Lou. Thank you so much for being supportive.” 

“Of course, I love you.” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the corner of Harry’s lips. He leaves his hand on Harry’s thigh, but pulls his shades over his eyes as he prepares to fall into a deep sleep.

 

 

 

 

“There he is!” Liam greets, walking towards Harry with open arms. He embraces him, gently, to not jostle his shoulder. “How are you feeling, kiddo?” 

Harry smiles against him, shutting his eyes. “I’m better.” 

Zayn and Niall walk over to join them. Niall’s smile is the widest Harry has ever seen it. They both greet him with hugs. 

Louis rests his hand on the small of Harry's back, standing beside them as his friends share a chat. “How’s the shoulder feeling?” Niall asks. 

“A bit sore, but it’s in the socket, so I can’t really complain, can I?” Harry chuckles, sincerely meeting Niall’s eyes. “Louis said you were by yourself for most of the seizure, so I just wanted to thank you for helping me.” 

“Don’t even worry about it.” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better.” 

“Yeah, me too.” Louis adds, standing on his tiptoes to kiss Harry’s temple. “He was such a good sport about his shoulder. Tell you what, I’ve never heard something quite as gross as a joint being popped back into place.” 

“Did it hurt?” Zayn asks, a bit too eagerly.

Harry laughs, nodding his head. “A lot, actually. I’m just glad it’s back in place.” 

“How long are you in the sling for?” Liam wonders. 

“Two or three weeks.” Harry says, glancing down at the black cotton and foam sling. It appears bulky, though Harry doesn’t feel weighed down by it. "Can't wait until it's over."

“That’s not too bad.” Liam says with a nonchalant shrug. “You should definitely take it easy though. What are you telling the reporters?”

“The truth.” Harry answers without hesitance. “I mean how am I supposed to raise awareness of epilepsy if I lie about the consequences? I think seizures are a rather misconstrued concept.” 

Louis traces shapes on Harry’s back. “You do whatever you feel is right, love. No one’s gonna stop you if you want to talk about it.” 

It’s about twenty five minutes later and they’re sat behind an elongated table taking questions from several reporters. The question about Harry’s arm comes about three minutes into the session.  “Harry, it looks like you have quite a painful injury. Would you mind enlightening us about what happened?” A younger woman asks, her purpose seemingly sweet.

“Uh, yeah. I think everyone knows I have epilepsy, but for the reporters who don’t and were wondering why they couldn't bring in cameras that flash, there’s your explanation. But to answer your question, I had a seizure on Saturday morning in the airport and dislocated my shoulder in the process.” With his answer, the mass of reporters become silent, waiting for him to say something else. Either they’re unsure of what to say or entirely enthralled to give Harry the spotlight. “It hurt a lot, but uh - I’ll be good as new in a few weeks. Nothing to worry about. We plan on continuing tour as expected.”

“How are you feeling today?” she asks.

Harry smiles at her, pulling the microphone closer. “Much better. Thank you for asking.” 

“My question is for the rest of you lads.” A older gentleman jumps in. “How does it feel seeing your bandmate, presumably one of your best friends, in such predicaments, assuming you’ve seen him have a seizure.”

Louis scoffs. “Well, it certainly doesn’t feel good, mate, that’s for sure.” He reaches for Harry’s thigh under the table, gripping tightly. “I don’t think anything else needs to be said about the matter. I  _ assume  _ everyone here has enough common sense to fill in the gaps. Next question.”

“You didn’t give your bandmates a chance to answer.” The man presses.

Niall raises his eyebrows. “Out of curiosity, what did you want us to say? Insult him for a disorder out of his hands or somethin’ like that? I think if anything all four of us, from seeing Harry struggle these last few years with all his medical complications, have become advocates for epilepsy.” 

“I’m gonna agree with Niall here.” Zayn adds. “I had, I’ll be honest, no interest in it, but knowing Harry as well as I do, I’ve definitely wanted to become a supporter of the cause.” 

Harry smiles to himself, peering down at his lap. He leans towards the microphone as he says, “I think raising awareness about any kind of issue is so important and having the kind of media exposure my friends and I have can really do a lot to make a change, so there’s that. You know, having an overload of support from my best friends and my fiance means the world to me. I couldn’t ask for anything else. I’m grateful.” 

"But are you happy, Harry?"

"Extremely so." 

 

_To be happy is to feel pleasure and enjoyment because of your life and/or situation._

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm still working on that new story and needed to take a break from it. Plus, I have multiple requests in my tumblr inbox to keep epilepsy verse going. Hopefully the lot of you aren't bored of it yet, eh? hopefully y'all enjoy it. feel free to leave me story suggestions below - even if they don't pertain to epilepsy verse - or on tumblr (troubleistheonlywaydown). also, feel free to give me a follow on twitter @terrestrialhaz (we can be super cool mutuals!) As always thank you for kudos, hits, bookmarks, recs, comments, all that jazz. Have a great day/night! Huge love and cheers. Emily.x


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